


Dominion

by GreyViking



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Daedra (Elder Scrolls), Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Skyrim Civil War, Slow Romance, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyViking/pseuds/GreyViking
Summary: When Serana of Clan Volkihar finally wakes, she expects to meet someone like her. However, for better or for worse, she meets Rydan - a vampire slayer working for the Dawnguard - with a burning hatred for vampires. Bitter enemies at first, this unlikely duo from two entirely different worlds realize that their goals are aligned and form an uneasy truce.As time progresses, however, Serana realizes that the man who awakened her has a destiny greater than that of a vampire hunter's and a past that might even be darker than hers.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana, Savos Aren/Mirabelle Ervine
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work of anything. I've never written before so please be patient with me haha. It might get a bit cheesy. I will try and avoid too many cliches.  
> The story is meant to cover Dawnguard through the Main Questline and onto Dragonborn.

_1 st of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 182_

_Falkreath Hold_

_Twelve miles east of the main city_

"What's your name, child?"

The boy, covered in his sister’s blood, did not answer Tolan’s question. In fact, he seemed unable to speak at all. Under normal circumstances, the young Vigilant would have thought him mute or dumb.

Today did not count as normal circumstances, however. Tolan swallowed, fighting his own sadness and anger, and asked a different question,

“Is this your family?”

The Vigilant gestured at the bodies arranged neatly next to the start of an unfinished grave. Two women and a man lied there, mutilated, and drained of all blood. Tolan could barely bear to look.

The boy nodded, staring emptily at the Vigilant’s steel-plate boots. His eyes were cold and distant – expressionless. He was in shock. If not for the tears streaming down his face, or the fact that this boy of less than ten years had the presence of mind to try and bury his family members, Tolan would have thought him detached.

“I’m sorry, little one. I know it probably means little to you, but the one responsible for this is dead.”

The boy looked up at Tolan but did not reply.

Two other Vigilants exited the small cottage behind the boy – a man and a woman.

The man, tall and tan, spoke first.

“They were killed inside. Died slowly – entrails strewn across the floor. There’s another corpse in there – a dog’s.”

“Tiber.” The boy whispered.

They regarded him, pity clear on their faces.

The woman was next to speak, “Dammit, Isran. Not in front of the boy.”

“The boy saw it happen, Carcette. Are we just going to pretend that this gruesome scene didn’t unfold to spare the boy’s already-taken innocence? Are we going to ignore the fact that this boy dragged the mutilated and defiled bodies of his sister and mother, along with the gutless remains of his father outside to bury?”

Carcette was silent, but anger shone in her eyes. Tolan looked at the ground, unable to continue looking at the boy.

“No,” Isran continued, “We won’t. We should be content with the fact that I gave the bastard what he deserved – a sword through the gullet – for this crime and for many more.”

It was Tolan’s turn to speak, “We got here too late, Isran. Nothing will change that – not for this boy. If we only –”

“If the damned vampire didn’t murder the family here, we never would’ve been able to follow its trail.” Isran finished.

Carcette, anger edging her voice, spoke next. “By the Nine, Isran. Can you stuff it? At least until we’ve given the boy to the Temple of Mara?”

Isran and Carcette glared at each other. Tolan stared at the quarter-dug grave. A quiet, but firm voice spoke.

“You didn’t kill him,”

They all turned to the boy.

“You didn’t kill him.” He looked up at them, defiant anger on his face.

“Yes we did, boy, I personally –”

“No.” The boy replied again, growing more confident in his words.

Isran clicked his jaw but looked inquisitively at the child.

Carcette, worry beginning to dawn on her face, walked up to the boy and knelt to look at him in the eye.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“Rydan.”

“Rydan. Why would you say that?”

“Because. I know who killed them.”

“Oh?” Carcette nudged.

“He told me that he’d come for me later. He told me to wait for the day that he could do worse things to me.”

Carcette’s eyes widened at this. “Who did?”

“Molag Bal – Lord of Domination.”


	2. An Uneasy Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes... the first real chapter of the story.

_18th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 200_

_Dimhollow Crypt_

_Several miles west of the Hall of the Vigilant_

The fire burned violet.

The Hunter held a torch in his left hand and examined the newly lit brazier. The flame that sprouted from it was purplish-blue, like the other had been. Now that two of the five braziers had been lit, he could better take in his surroundings, though not as well as he had hoped. After all, he had expected the fire to burn bright orange.

He was standing in a large, circular chamber. The chamber itself was bordered by a circular wall with several triangular entryways. In the middle of the chamber, a small pedestal jutted out from the floor. This pedestal stood atop some sort of pentagonal carving in the floor – though the Hunter could not see it very well – and was surrounded by a circle of triangular arches made from the same stone as the chamber’s wall. There were carvings on each corner of the pentagon that jutted out in lines towards the edge of the room. In the middle of these line-carvings, there were five braziers, two of which were lit.

The Hunter walked over to the third brazier, thinking of Adalvald's and Tolan’s fate. _Too slow._ He was too slow and now they were dead. The Vigilants were never ready for this. Idiots in robes and plate armor who were naïve enough to believe they had any chance against real threats – against vampires and Daedra. Isran was right to leave. The Hunter did not regret following Isran’s example.

That didn’t change the guilt he felt when he found their corpses. He overheard the creatures actually praise Tolan’s courage – and Tolan had actually managed to kill two of them. Even still, when he ended the creatures responsible, he felt no real satisfaction. He never did. Not when he cleared the crypt of vampires, or when he stabbed the one torturing Adalvald in the back with his silver blade. There were just too damned many of them and he knew he was barely making a dent. And he knew that on the day that he enjoyed what he did, regardless of how much he hated these _creatures_ , Stendarr would forsake him. The only semblance of peace he got was when he buried them - right there - where they had died. A monument to their last stand against the terrible enemy. Still, he couldn’t even be angry with Tolan for ignoring Isran’s warning and coming here. Afterall, Tolan met a grizzly death. A death far too horrible for a man like him. The same man that comforted him when he was a boy. _Well,_ the Hunter thought, _that didn’t matter now._

The Hunter lit the third brazier. For some reason, this brazier seemed to darken the room, making it appear more dimly lit and purple. This didn’t help the Hunter’s already blackened mood. He considered whether it was even worth lighting the other two.

Shrugging to himself, he walked over to the fourth brazier. It couldn’t hurt. The fourth brazier came alight and the room became eerie now – the Hunter might have been imagining it – but it seemed that a purplish fog had descended over the chamber. It was too dark to tell if this was the case. He went to light the final brazier.

As he approached the final brazier, he hesitated. The flames were unnatural. He was in a place known as _Dimhollow Crypt_ and he knew the vampires were searching for something here. And the carvings on the floor, as well as the pentagonal arrangement of the braziers reminded him of rituals conducted by Daedra-worshippers. Was it really wise to light the final flame?

He didn’t have to make up his mind it seemed – his torch lit the flame on its own and the brazier came to light. _How?_ The torch in his hand was close to the brazier, sure, but not close enough to light it accidentally. There was now clearly a purple fog – almost flame like – around the chamber.

And then the ground shook. At first, the Hunter thought it a cave-in. The damned vampires must have found out he was in here and sealed the entrance. Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea. As far as the Hunter knew, they hadn’t yet found what they were looking for so that didn’t make any sense. And if new vampires had arrived, they would’ve first investigated.

_Then… what?_

The pentagonal carving in the middle of the room opened, and the pedestal rose, revealing a large… coffin? Sarcophagus? It seemed that the original “pedestal” was the top of this new structure.

And then the lid to the coffin or sarcophagus or whatever it was fell onto the floor, and a woman dropped out onto her hands and knees, shivering.

The Hunter dropped his torch and ran instinctively towards the woman. “Hey!” He yelled. “Are you alright?” The woman struggled to stand and seemed to be disoriented. She tried finding the right question.

“Uhm… where is… who sent you here?”

The Hunter, both concerned for her and a little wary, asked, “Who... Who were you expecting?”

“I was expecting…” She seemed to have found her bearing now and was studying the man. “… Someone like me, at least.”

The Hunter took note of the woman. She was a little shorter than him with dark hair, similar to his that fell to her shoulders. She wore a dark-red and black top, dark pants and boots. Her skin was pale and soft, and her lips were unnaturally red. Although her face and features belied a beautiful woman, her eyes ruined the image. They were startingly yellow and glowed in the dark. He knew the answer to his question before he even asked,

“Are you a …”

“A vampire, yes.” She finished.

The Hunter gripped the hilt of his greatsword in its sheath. She could sense his fear – the elevated beating of his heart. The clench of his jaw. The tenseness of his muscles as he reached for his weapons. Like an animal ready to either flee or pounce. His jet-black hair was darker than hers and looked purple in the brazier-light. His strong features revealed to her that he was a Nord, although he was a bit shorter than the average Nord male, only slightly taller than her, and his hair was darker than any she had seen. He wore a plain looking leather and iron armor set with steel pauldrons at his shoulders. His eyes were light-gray and stormy – intelligent, sure – but they looked at her coldly. He was no friend of hers. And he definitely was not sent by her father.

“The Dawnguard would want me to kill you.” He started, slowly - each word drawn out and emphasized. His voice was less gruff than what she was expecting, and a little lower. 

“I’ll let you tell me what’s going on first and why other vampires are searching for you.” He added, “And I’ll then grant you a quick death.”

“Charming, aren’t you?” The Vampire smiled. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried. But I’ve never seen eyes of those color before, and I quite like them. So, I’ll let you be my thrall. At least… for a little while.”

The Hunter silently watched her, hate evident in his eyes.

The Vampire put her hands up in front of her, “Okay, calm down. It was just a joke.” She only half-lied. “The Dawnguard, huh? Not fond of vampires, are they?”

The man unsheathed his sword from his hip – it was long and finely made. It seemed too heavy to be convenient to swing with one hand, but the man gripped it in his right - the point aimed at the floor. With his left, he held something gleaming and painful to look at – no, not held – conjured. It was magic, and it reminded her of the sun.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here.” 

“Assuming, you could.” The vampire countered. “Anyway, look, kill me and you’ve killed one vampire. But if other vampires are searching for me, there’s something bigger going on. And I can help you get to the bottom of it.”

The Hunter considered this. Vampires had indeed been getting more restless which was saying something as they were always restless. And his job here was to investigate why.

“How do I know I can trust you?” He asked her.

The Vampire laughed; it was a strangely pleasant sound. “Trust? Really? I will _never_ trust you and you will _never_ trust me. But I need to get home, and I need help getting back. If you want the whole story, take me there.”

 _Take her there? Was she out of her mind?_ The Vampire wasn’t sure how long she’d been in that coffin but she knew it had to be long. And as a vampire, she couldn’t just walk herself to Solitude without raising a suspicious eye. She needed a mortal to guide her - preferably one acquainted with her situation.

She wasn’t the only one who doubted the idea, however. the Hunter almost laughed at her request. Did this vampire really expect him to take her home so that she could give him the answers he sought? Just so he could be killed and drained by her deranged family as they laughed about their plans to drink more blood, kill more families, and kidnap more wives _But_ if he did manage to make it to whatever rinky-dink cave she hailed from, and did learn what he needed to know, and somehow was not overwhelmed by her vampire family, he could give vital information to the Dawnguard. Even better, he could kill her and torch her home and kill her entire vampire-family, saving Skyrim from the inevitable havoc they would wreak.

The woman… er, _vampire_ , he reminded himself, looked at him expectantly. She was right. He couldn’t just kill her here. The Hunter knew his trade when it came to slaying and he knew the limits of his own skill. She was probably low on blood, and weak from being in that coffin for Stendarr knows how long. But she was powerful. He could feel it. He wasn’t confident he could kill her now, even weakened. Leagues above the lowly vampires that littered this crypt. More powerful than the vampire who’d tortured Adalvald and he’d had to stab it in the back since he knew he couldn’t take the creature out fair and square.

“Fine. I’ll take you to your home.” He answered. “Where do you need to go?”

The Vampire was surprised by this but hid it quickly. “My family lived on an island west of Solitude. They still might.”

She knew that he agreed too easily to her request. Which meant that he was doing it out of pure self interest. He wanted to know where she lived and then he would kill her - she knew that this was his mindset - but she still needed him to guide her there. 

Meanwhile, the Hunter calculated the cost of such a journey. _West of Solitude._ If they took a carriage from Morthal, it would take only a day. On top of the trek to Morthal itself, barring any inconveniences, they could reach there by the twenty-second. The return trip would be faster since Rydan could take a carriage straight to Riften and from there it was less than a day’s walk to to Fort Dawnguard. He could deliver this information to Isran within two weeks if he was efficient. 

“My name is Serana by the way." She stated, interrupting his train of thought. "It’s a … _pleasure …_ to meet you.” She said the word distastefully.

She gave him her first name. He could do the same. “Rydan.”

Serana was not satisfied with this, it seemed. She continued to study him. “Hmm. I pegged you for a Titus. Or maybe a Brentford.”

”Why?”

“Because those names are usually given to pompous mortal pricks, and you fit into that category quite nicely.”

Rydan grimaced at her suggestions and insult. “Charming, my lady, truly.” He mocked. “Just Rydan, please.” Here he was – requesting a vampire to get his name right. Stendarr preserve him.

“Well then Rydan, get me out of this place.”

“I’m not sure I can – we cannot go back the way I came.”

Serana sighed. “I see. Well, take me the direction you didn’t come from then.”

Rydan gestured behind her with his sword. “That way. You lead. I’ll follow.”

Serana smirked at the fearful mortal, taking pleasure in his evident dissatisfaction with her.

“Paranoid mortals are unattractive regardless of how handsome they appear to be.”

“Filthy vampires are unattractive regardless of how confident they may come across. Especially those that fall out of coffins and are inclined to run their mouths.”

“I lead, you follow, huh? Acting like a good little thrall already, it seems.”

Rydan clenched his jaw but said nothing, to Serana’s disappointment. Serana turned around and began to walk in the direction Rydan had pointed. Rydan’s eyes widened.

“Wait.” He called after her.

Serana looked over her shoulder at him annoyed, sensing a rise in his heartbeat. “You start breathing heavier every time a woman turns her rear to you, creep?”

“Need I remind you that you fell out of a coffin in the middle of this Crypt, making you the creep? Either way, is that… don’t tell me that’s an –”

“- an Elder Scroll.” She confirmed. “Yes.” Serana wouldn’t have thought him the kind of man to know that – so maybe he was more than some brute.

“Why do you have an Elder Scroll?”

“I was locked away with it.”

“Why?” Rydan demanded. He didn’t know much about Elder Scrolls, but they were supposed to be timeless artifacts. Artifacts of creation itself. It seemed to slightly warp the space around her, though he couldn’t be sure. Why in the world would some vampire have one? It seemed that she was more important than he had initially realized.

“Take me to my home. And I’ll tell you everything.” 

Rydan was silent for sometime. He doubted that disagreeing with her request or threatening her would accomplish anything. Finally, he shrugged and motioned for her to move forward. He followed behind her as she exited the circular chamber and trudged up the stairs.

They came upon an entrance to a large room. On either side of the tunnel leading into it, there were two monstrous statues. Some sort of flying dremora carved out of rock, Rydan observed. He shuddered as he eyed them - something about them seemed so real and so menacing.

Serana hesitated, “Gargoyles. Be careful, they may-”

Before she could finish her warning, the statue on the left exploded into dust and within it, the same menacing creature - only this time real and definitely not stone - lunged towards Rydan.

Rydan didn’t have time to execute a perfect dodge. Instead, he intentionally fell back and instinctively shoved his left hand forward in order to prevent the creature’s talons from grabbing at him. The creature mangled his arm but its acceleration saved Rydan - as it wasn’t able to stop itself from flying past him. Rydan jumped up into a standing position and hefted his sword up with his right arm. Heavier than he was used to now that his left arm was incapacitated, he swung the sword in a wide arc above him just as the creature returned, ready to slash at Rydan again. The sword caught in its neck and the creature - the _gargoyle_ \- spasmed as it fell to the ground, the momentum snatching Rydan’s sword out of his hands. He frowned at the now-dead and still spasming monstrosity on the ground and pulled his sword out of its neck.

Serana watched, saying nothing. It had happened fast. Once she knew it was killed, she began to move again and gestured Rydan to follow. Rydan did so silently. He was better than she had expected. He dodged the gargoyle with lightning fast speed and took it down with one strike - using a greatsword and one good arm. Sure, he might have broken his left, but very few mortals would even have had time to see it coming. Despite their size, gargoyles were speedy bastards. She had underestimated him. And now she had to be careful. She was confident before that even as he followed behind her she would be able to avoid a surprise strike from him. Seeing his speed and reflexes now, she wasn’t so sure.

They entered a large chamber that maybe resembled a banquet hall - if banquet halls were a thousand years old, riddled with skeletons and corpses, and musty. There were four-way stairs leading down to each side of a rectangular hearth. At the start of each staircase, there was a throne that sat an armored draugr, which stirred as they sensed the duo’s presence. Soon, all of the skeletons and draugr that littered the floor began to stir and rise as well.

“Shit,” exclaimed Serana, “Can you fight well with that arm?” She asked Rydan.

“As well as can be expected.” He admitted. “I can’t use both sunfire and my weapon with a bad arm. And I’m too drained at the moment to try and heal it to a usable degree.”

She nodded, “Stay close to me then.”

He didn’t answer.

She gathered her energy and concentrated, sending a wave of telekinetic energy at the first attackers - two skeletons and two draugr - three of which were blown away by the spell and were shattered by the impact. She missed the other draugr - who tried to jab at her chest with its greatsword. It didn’t get the chance however as Rydan caught the blade with the hilt of his sword and pushed upwards, disarming the draugr. The draugr reeled back. Unarmed, it tried a frost spell but Rydan slashed its neck with a quick motion and the draugr fell to the ground, its head detached from its body.

They continued this pattern on wave after wave of enemy. Serana dispelled waves of blasts at the oncoming undead, and Rydan dispatched the ones she inevitably missed. Soon the room was mostly clear. One final, menacing draugr remained. It wore heavy armor and its eyes seemed more intelligent and more calculating than the other undead.

Serana attempted to blast it away but she found that she lacked the energy. The draugr almost seemed amused by this. She cursed herself - if only she wasn’t so thirsty and energy deprived. She could’ve dispatched it easily.

Rydan stepped forward, sword drawn. He wasn’t in much better condition either - his arm was broken and mangled, and he had sustained cuts from the sustained fighting. He almost looked as pale as her.

“He’s mine.” Rydan managed. Serana rolled her eyes but didn’t object.

The draugr approached fast - frighteningly fast - and broke out into a run. Like the other draugr in the room, it wielded a greatsword and slashed downwards at Rydan. The vampire-hunter was ready for the creature’s overhead slash and managed to dodge left, and then shoved - using his body to force the draugr to the side. The draugr stumbled, regained its footing, and charged again, swinging his blade at Rydan. This time Rydan ducked under the blow and thrust his sword out at the draugr. The thrust was too weak to penetrate the creature’s armor and it quickly pulled its body back, rage clear in its hauntingly-blue eyes. 

Rydan knew he couldn’t parry any attack with his blade, as the draugr would simply overpower him since Rydan was wielding a greatsword with only one hand. The draugr pointed its sword tauntingly at Rydan, waiting for his next move.

Rydan accepted the challenge. The vampire hunter charged the creature and their blades met as the draugr parried his attack. However, the momentum of the charge caused the draugr to lose its footing slightly and Rydan shoved with his shoulder, pushing the creature onto the ground. As soon as the draugr hit the floor, it was over. Rydan thrust his sword point into the draugr’s skull before it could recover.

Panting hard, Rydan looked over at Serana and smirked. She looked at him intently now, more than before. He was skilled and quite brave (or insane), but reckless. The whole confrontation had taken mere seconds and she knew that Rydan had been too weak to challenge that creature. Yet he still won.

Serana did not know what to think. On one hand, her guide was quite a capable warrior. Not as skilled as her or a pure-blooded vampire, but skilled for a mortal. On the other hand, however, he was both dangerous and reckless. She would have to seriously ponder on their arrangement as they travelled.

The room was silent now, and Rydan, who had sheathed his sword, was making his way towards the hearth.

“What are you doing?” Serana asked him.

“I hear… something.” He trailed off. He seemed to be far away, making his way towards a wall at the center. Carved into it was some sort of marking - written in a language she didn’t know. Maybe _he_ did. Or maybe the crypt had started affecting his mind. Whatever it was, she didn’t have the patience for it.

“Hey, I can see the path to the exit. Are you coming or not?”

Rydan ignored her and stared at the wall. “What is it saying? Is this a trick?”

 _Great._ Serana thought. _The Crypt had gotten to him_. Now she would have to travel with a reckless and hallucinating mortal to her home. Best to just enthrall him.

Rydan seemed to snap out of it, but his eyes were still distant as he made his way back up the stairs to where Serana stood. “Let’s... let’s get out of here.” 

It was evening when they exited the Crypt, to Rydan’s dismay and Serana’s gratitude.

Rydan was looking sickly now, drained of energy and having lost blood. Serana eyed his cuts hungrily, but she controlled herself. At least a while longer - until she knew she could make it back on her own.

“I need rest.” He said, as they walked out into the snow-covered patch outside the cavern exit. “I used the last of my magicka to heal my arm - or at least, begin healing it. I won’t be able to continue otherwise.”

Rydan cringed at his own words. He was confessing to a vampire that he was both helpless and currently useless. He wasn’t sure why. But he knew that if he didn’t prepare properly, he would die anyway, or worse, she would turn him. Better to say something sooner than later.

Serana looked at him for a long moment. When he thought she would finally leap on him and finish him off, she asked,

“What year is it?”

“Two hundred… of the Fourth Era.” He replied, relieved. If she refused to kill him now at his weakest, she would probably hold off on killing him in the immediate future, at least. 

“I see. Who now rules Skyrim. Who’s High King?” 

“Torygg.” Rydan answered, realizing that she had been in that coffin a lot longer than he originally surmised. “Though, most think him an Imperial puppet.”

“Imperial?”

“You know… the Empire.”

“No.” She said, more to herself than to him.

“Oh.” He responded. “Well, I can explain while we make camp. I know a place nearby.”

”This time you lead on, I’ll follow.” 

And so, the unlikely duo headed in the direction of Morthal. The vampire-hunter cautiously eyed his companion’s every move with his peripheral, wondering when she would betray their arrangement.

And the vampire, sad and contemplative, thought of her home. Of the relentless nightmares she lived through while she slept. And of her mother. Her kind, caring mother, who had forsaken her and kept her in that accursed crypt.


	3. Ash and Coal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I had written Whiterun in the previous chapter. They were actually supposed to head to Mortal since it's way closer. I have fixed this.

They approached their destination as night fell - the perfect place to set up camp that Rydan had mentioned earlier. 

He led them to the edge of a clearing, a few miles west of the Crypt. He explained that the spot would be ideal for them to make camp in, as it was well-hidden and forested, surrounded by either mountain or clearing, and offering a good vantage point against any trouble. 

Serana watched the Hunter unfurl his pack and pull out a tanned elk hide. He placed it gently on the ground, brushing off any dust and hairs that were left over. He pulled a small hatchet out of his pack as well, and set it down on top of the hide. His motions were slow and deliberate, and she could tell that he was eyeing her with his peripherals. He was still very wary of her and was ready to evade an attack if the need arose. She guessed he wasn’t that much of a fool after all, though she knew that she could kill him before he had a chance to realize what was going on. 

“So the Empire…” She began.

Rydan looked over at her, “Yeah?”

She didn’t know where to start. “Explain it to me?”

“Explain the Empire to you? Hm. Well, it was founded in the late Second Era and once spanned all of Tamriel. Now, it only holds Skyrim and most of Cyrodil - which is its capital.”

“Cyrodil the seat of the Empire? I wouldn’t have thought.” She whistled. “You said ‘imperial puppet’ earlier with disdain when you talked of your High King. Is the Empire unpopular?”

Rydan nodded, thinking. “The Empire isn’t exactly popular with us Nords. They banned Talos worship at the behest of the Thalmor. Although, ironically, we still need the Empire to unite us against the Thalmor.”

Serana was now very confused. “What is Talos? And who are the Thalmor?”

Rydan looked quizzically at Serana. “How long were you asleep for exactly, vampire?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “It seems like several hundred years, at least.”

He walked a few feet away from the hide and used his foot to clear out a small, circular area of snow until the dirt was visible. She guessed that it was supposed to be the beginning of a fire pit.

Finally, he looked up at her, unwrapping the grey-green cloak he donned when they left the Crypt. “We need wood.”

Serana looked at him confused, tilting her head at him. “Wait. Is this your ‘camp’?’”

Rydan nodded.

Serana was nearly speechless. “You said you needed to make camp.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And? You literally just pulled out an animal hide and laid it on the ground.” 

“Problem? The weather seems good for now and we have partial sheltering here. Plus I have my cloak to keep me warm.” He answered.

Serana shook her head, astonished. This man was something else. And to think that just moments ago she praised him in her mind for his wisdom.

“I need to sleep as well.” She added.

“You’ve just slept for hundreds of years.” He countered.

She ignored him. “And what of you? Are you just going to lay there and sleep while I stand guard over you?”

“Yes. We can sleep in shifts if you really need it.”

“And you’re not afraid that I’ll just kill you in your sleep?”

Rydan looked at her for a moment. “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done so already.”

Serana shook her head, not believing a word of his sudden confidence. “Bold words for someone who’s been watching my every move since we left the crypt.” 

Rydan flinched. She was exactly right. He didn’t trust her to not kill him in his sleep. He thought that if he played the part of a self-assured vampire hunter, she would think twice before attacking him. But she had seen through his act. He continued anyway.

“Look. I sleep light. And you need me to take you to your home. You don’t know the way or where we are and have no knowledge of this era. Sure, you can try your luck on your own or find some other mortal to take you, but I doubt you’d find someone as capable as me or half as willing.” He contended.

Serana considered this. “True. But I don’t need to convince anyone to take me there. I can just enslave them.”

Rydan nodded, “Sure. But enthralled mortals are just as much dead giveaways as vampires themselves and lack any sort of free will. Every hold has experienced patrols on the lookout for vampires now, and even if you _could_ take some of them out, they’re much more trouble than they’re worth. Not to mention the other vampires that were looking for you are probably still looking and I just so happen to be a damned good vampire hunter myself.”

Serana cursed to herself. She had hoped he’d forgotten about the vampires that were after her in the Crypt. “So? I’m a vampire, in case you forgot. I’ll just enlist-”

“No you won’t.” He interrupted. “You don’t want to be found by them. If you did, you never would’ve asked for my help getting back.”

Serana stared at him. “It seems that we’re at an impasse. Fine. I won’t kill you in your sleep. It’s no fun that way anyway. I’ll wait until you’ve woken, at the very least.” She smiled prettily.

He didn’t answer, instead wandering off to gather wood. 

While he was gone, she decided it would be a good idea to rummage through his belongings. She walked over to the elk hide and knelt at his possessions. She unfolded his cloak and stared at the symbol on the back, committing it to memory. An iron shield with rays of light and flame jetting out from it - meant to resemble the sun. She refolded the cloak and then looked through his pack, and hissed. There were two phials of blood, garlic, a wooden stake, stale bread, and a bottle of ale. She snatched the phials out of the pack. She uncorked one of them, about to gulp down in ravenous hunger, when she recoiled from the smell. It smelled of garlic, rot, and nightshade. The bastard was carrying poisoned blood. Of course he was.

“Something the matter?” Rydan asked, feigning innocence. She turned to face him and found him looking down at her, smirking and carrying a handful of wood. 

“I should’ve known you’d never carry real blood phials around,” she spat, “this is putrid. No vampire would drink this.”

Rydan frowned. “Damn, I thought I had fixed the smell. Looks like I’ll have to make it even more subtle with the next brew.”

“You’re an evil prick.” Serana hissed. 

“That’s rich - coming from a servant of Molag Bal,” he scoffed in return.

Serana stiffened at this. “What the fuck do you know, vampire hunter. You’re a genocidal maniac. You hunt our kind like animals.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. If Rydan thought that vampires could have empathy, he would’ve sworn that Serana’s eyes were bright and brimming with tears. But no, vampires didn’t have empathy. It would only make all the things he’d done to them cruel, and all the things that they did to mortals unbearable.

“I hunt _your kind_ like animals?” 

“What gives you so much hatred for us anyway - so much that it forces you to go of your way to find us and murder us.”

Rydan gave her a look of white anger, but immediately cooled his temper and shrugged, “Hm. I dunno, I guess I just hate the smell of blood and piss that plague all vampires and I want Skyrim to be an overall better-smelling place.” He feigned nonchalance. 

Serana glared at him, but she knew he was lying. He was angry and contemptuous and deeply hurt - she could sense these and other powerful emotions stirring within him. He was repressing something dark and painful. But she said nothing of it.

“Well, let’s hope that we find my home quickly so that we can be rid of each other’s companies. Once and for all.”

Rydan nodded. “Finally some sensible words from the vampire. I was beginning to worry that you had gone feral.”

Serana said nothing and simply looked away. _When the time came, she would enjoy killing him_ , she thought. 

She wasn’t sure if she meant it.

Soon it was dark and the vampire-hunter was passed out on the elk hide, wrapped in his cloak. An icy wind - which didn’t bother Serana - forced Rydan to curl up into a fetal position and shiver for warmth. Not even the fire was enough to make the night comfortable for him. If Serana didn’t loathe him, she would’ve found it endearing. _Why did that even cross her mind?_ They were supposed to sleep in shifts, but Serana decided not to wake Rydan up for his. Afterall, he was right that she was pretty well-rested already. And he looked damn-near like a vampire himself when he walked out of the crypt. He needed rest badly. And with the bastard asleep, she had valuable time to herself - time without him - to think and plan.

She didn’t manage much thinking however, and her thoughts drifted back to him. He was so helpless just lying there. His sword was propped up against a nearby tree and he’d taken his armor off. He was in a roughspun shirt, curled up for warmth in his cloak. She saw the rise and fall of his chest and heard the peaceful, slow beating of his heart. She was surprised that he slept so well, considering that he was so paranoid just a few hours before. His jaw was strongly built and a wisp of hair was growing across his chin. And underneath that, well...

She gulped when her eyes found his neck. So beautifully carved and smooth. She saw the veins that comprised it - the arteries flowing with and pumping blood.

 _Blood_ . Gods, did he look appetizing. She was maddeningly thirsty and all she could think about was killing this loathsome creature and devouring his blood. _But no._ Not yet. She needed him, as infuriating as it was. She would have to ask him for it. And she hated herself for that.

Morning came, and Rydan stirred from his sleep. Serana thought that he would be furious that she hadn’t woken him for his shift. He said nothing of it, however, and pulled the bread from his pack to eat. In truth, he was grateful to still be alive.

After breakfast, Rydan packed up his belongings, donned his armor, and picked up his weapon. Rydan seemed to be in better spirits, and looked a lot healthier. Serana noticed that his arm seemed to function quite normally now, as he seemed to be testing it out by flexing his fingers over and over again. They began walking west, Serana following Rydan’s lead. He was less tense now, but she could sense he still watched her.

They walked in silence for hours. Finally, he spoke. “we can make it to Morthal by tomorrow afternoon if we forego sleeping tonight. From there we’ll take a carriage to Solitude. We can rest in the cart.” 

Serana raised an eyebrow. _No wonder he looked sickly_ . _He probably did this kind of travelling on a regular basis_. They walked through the night and into the morning. Rydan seemed to hold on well. Serana was feeling more and more hungry. She was too weak to continue like this for now.

Rydan pointed at the horizon. “There’s Morthal there. There may still be a carriage at this hour. Let’s hurry.”

Serana fell back and called out. “Before that, I need your blood.” 

Rydan froze. They had now both stopped walking.

“What?”

“I need your blood.” She demanded. “Otherwise I will have to find some other mortal to feed on.”

Rydan simply stared at her for a good several minutes. And then he surprised her.

“Fine.” He stated. He pulled out a silver dagger from his belt. She hadn’t noticed it before.

“You may drink from me - but only just enough to keep you going. We’ll embrace, and you may drink. But I will have this dagger pointed at your spine the whole time, as assurance.”

She blinked, “I won’t take more than I need. But you are a fool to think you have control.”

She walked over to where he stood and smiled to herself as she sensed his heartbeat rise. He was tense and anxious. His blood would pump faster and this would be more enjoyable. 

She was standing directly in front of him now, wearing a supernatural grin. Her eyes glowed in the moonlight. The eerie Morthal-swamp surrounded them on all sides, and the leafless willow trees rustling in the wind, as well as the vampire about to drink his blood, reminded Rydan of a scene in a horror novel. She regarded him. He was scared - that much was certain - but he was firm. Unwavering. Few mortals would offer their blood to a vampire in this way. For some reason, it didn’t piss her off.

They were standing close now, noses nearly touching. She put her arms around him and he did the same - and she felt the tip of a blade touch her back. She smiled predatorily at him one last time, and tilted her head to his neck. At first Rydan thought she was kissing it, but a sudden sharp pain jarred him back to reality. 

Not only him, it seemed. A second later, Serana nearly jumped back twenty feet in one leap, hissing at him.

“What the fuck was that?” She demanded.

Rydan, confused, tilted his head. “What?”

“Your blood. It tastes like ash and coal.” She sneered.

He snapped back at her. “Maybe your taste-buds have just dulled over the last several hundred years.” _Why was she saying that? Why was she saying what He had said?_

“Tell me again, who are you?” Serana looked at him intently. Wildly.

“I’m Rydan - of the Dawnguard. Rydan the Hunter.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she clarified. “ _What_ are you.”

Rydan did not understand. “What do you mean?”

“Your blood.”

“What about it.”

“... it’s not human.”

He had heard those words before. Words that plagued his nightmares. Words that gave him immeasurable guilt and overwhelming sadness.

And this was the second time they were said to him.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence.


	4. Mercy

Their carriage-ride to Solitude took two and a half days.

Serana was silent throughout the carriage-ride. Which, for the most part, Rydan was grateful for. However part of him was a bit worried. Had she not drank enough? Was his blood unsuitable for her? If she died, her usefulness to him would be at an end. The thought made him feel guilty, though he didn’t know why. 

They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, holding each other’s hands. Serana wore a bloody-blindfold that hid her vampiric-eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. The other couple in the cart - two Breton bards presumably making their way to the college in Solitude - smiled at Rydan as they continued down the main road. _What a sweet man_ , they thought. Holding his blind wife’s hands to reassure her that everything would be okay. Serana could sense this sort of emotion in them and frowned. _How infuriating._

Rydan and Serana were in fact the furthest thing from husband and wife in Skyrim - in Tamriel, probably. The vampire and vampire-hunter were playing the part of husband and wife in order to secure a cart to the Imperial city. Rydan closed his eyes, tired, and remembered the events of the past day.

When they had first arrived in Morthal, Rydan wanted out as soon as possible. He disliked the citizens of the back-water and fearful town in the middle of the marsh almost as much as he hated the swamp surrounding it. Serana noticed.

“Not a big fan of the country?” She asked.

“Not a big fan of this shithole.” Rydan corrected. 

“It seems that you despise this place. Any reason why?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t my first journey here.” He briefly answered. 

Serana had cast illusion magic on her eyes to make them appear icy blue. The color suited her, and in Morthal, most of the men were eying her lustfully. This annoyed Rydan. _If only they knew what she was_. She had also cast an illusion on the Elder Scroll - making it look like a linen sack full of traveling equipment. He left her perusing the food-stalls in front of the inn, drawing the attention of some more men.

Rydan went to hire a carriage to Solitude, when he saw that only one option remained. A carriage-driver near the stables was talking with a Breton-couple who seemed just as eager to leave Morthal as Rydan did. The driver was a Dunmer who had arrived in Morthal from Solitude to deliver a passenger to the town. The Morthal townspeople that passed him by frowned and openly glared at the Mer, but he paid them no mind and seemed content enough. The Breton couple shook his hand, and walked towards Serana and the inn - presumably their place of residence - to gather their belongings. The carriage-driver’s cart carried several containers of black-briar mead - containers that the townsfolk would have hungrily eyed - and might have even jumped him for - had he not cast illusion magic to disguise them as crates of cabbages. Rydan, who had been walking over to request passage to Solitude, saw the Dunmer do this and froze.

_Shit._

Their driver knew illusion magic. And there was no way to know how skilled he was or if he’d be able to see through Serana’s disguise. He looked over to Serana, who was busy flirting with a local fisherman. He walked over to them.

They noticed him coming. The fisherman narrowed his eyes - whether wary of the dangerous-looking stranger to his home-town or suspicious of another male about to interrupt his conversation with a beautiful woman, Rydan didn’t care. He had to disguise her eyes through other means before the driver could see her.

He grabbed her hand. “Er, come... wife. We must get moving.” He asked of her awkwardly.

Serana raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at Rydan, but she nodded.

“Uhm, yes, … husband,” she returned. She smiled at the fisherman. “Perhaps you can show me your rod next time, Tordir.”

The fisherman looked disappointed and Rydan took Serana’s hand and led her away.

They walked towards a bridge, when Serana pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes at him.

“What the hell was that?” Serana questioned. “Wife? Who would ever believe that I would-”

“Listen ‘sweetheart’,” Rydan exaggerated the word, cutting her off, “the only carriage-driver currently in the town can use illusion magic.”

Serana sighed. “Damn.”

Rydan pulled out his old blood-stained bandage that he had used for his left arm, and tore out a strip. “Use this as a blindfold.”

Serana gingerly took the bandage. “Are you sure we have to do this?”

“I’m sure.” He responded.

“Fine.” She replied. “My senses are good enough on their own for the most part. But I’ll still need you to guide me.” She wrapped the blindfold around her eyes. 

Rydan took her hand in his own again. “Then come, wife, we’ve a carriage awaiting us.” 

The corners of Serana’s mouth curved upwards, but she hid it quickly. _Cheeky bastard._ She couldn’t believe that she had the urge to smile at that. 

“Avoid the fisherman, if you can. Wouldn’t want him to think I’d suddenly gone blind. And we can purchase a large fruit-crate from the market to keep the Elder Scroll in.”

Rydan nodded. “Good idea.”

——

Their driver’s name was Falin, and he had limited space in his cart since he was carrying goods as well as two other passengers back to Solitude. But he assured them that the space was perfect for a husband-wife couple since they could squeeze really close together. 

_Yes, just perfect._ Rydan gritted his teeth. Their shoulders were pressed against each other, and if Serana was any closer to him, she’d have been sitting on his lap. The crate containing the Elder Scroll was placed on top of the crates of fruit directly to the left of Serana. 

After two days riding, Falin told them that they’d be approaching the main city in a couple of hours. The road was well-travelled and safe, but the carriage was slow due to the weight of the cart and the poor condition of Falin’s donkeys. Rydan slept easily, and Serana thought of home. From the road, she could smell the scent of Haafingar pine and smiled - the scent was just as she had remembered. But then she thought of her family and was saddened. 

She should be ecstatic, she tried to convince herself. If her family was still around, they’d be excited to see her. Maybe her mother and her father had…

No.

She knew that it wasn’t possible. Their family was most likely forever fractured. She’d return home to her father and his subordinates. And if Rydan went into the castle with her, he would be killed by them. 

Serana didn’t want Rydan’s death. She had realized this several hours before, when she woke and found she was resting on his shoulder. It was the dead of night and so she risked lifting her blindfold a little. Falin was facing away from them and drove easily down the main road. The Breton couple they were facing were snoring, holding each other and sleeping noisily. She looked over at Rydan and studied him. He was unconcerned - peaceful-looking and fast asleep. The irony of her situation was not lost on her - just days earlier he had woken her from a coffin and threatened to kill her and she returned the threat. And now they were so close together. It was an act, but it was nice. Even though she strongly disliked him and thought him an arrogant mortal prick, the last few days had been entertaining. The mortal had grown on her and she found that she didn’t hate him anymore.

She remembered the night that she drank his blood. 

She told him his blood tasted like ash and had been frightened by the first taste. What she didn’t tell him was that his blood was _delicious_ . She had used the word ‘ash’ because that was her closest point of comparison. It was fiery, ashy, and ancient. And _powerful_. She could taste it. If he was a regular mortal, she was a spriggan.

And she wanted more. But she refrained from it. It wasn’t mortal blood, and she didn’t know if she should drink anymore. Plus she would weaken or even kill him, and she needed him at his best, with where they were going. The amount of blood she had taken from him seemed enough to return her strength, anyway.

They arrived at Solitude at mid-day. Rydan paid Falin the appropriate amount of septims and thanked him for the ride, watching as the cheery Dunmer unpacked his goods for market. 

The city-gate sprawled in front of Rydan and Serana. Serana still had her blindfold on, waiting patiently for Rydan to give her the go-ahead to take it off. 

He smiled. This would be the first time she would see Solitude. It was enormous, ancient, and greenly - the wall itself towered above the endless stream of people leaving and entering the city’s gates. The city overlooked the Karth River to its East, which cut through the base of the plateau that the city was perched upon. In the horizon, the wild and majestic mountains of Skyrim dominated the landscape.

He led her away from the gates of the city - after all, they would not be stopping at the city - and to a platform at the edge of the plateau that overlooked the river.

“You can take the blindfold off now, vampire.” 

Serana eagerly tore off her blindfold. Her eyes were bright and when she looked upon the land, her mouth made a perfect ‘o’. She was in awe of the scenery - of the mountains in the distance, the docks below, the sound of thousands of citizens interacting with one another in Skyrim’s largest and most densely populated city. She held herself, as if feeling suddenly small, and smiled.

“I’ve read of this in stories but to see it here....” she trailed off, and turned to him. “Why?” She asked suddenly, losing her smile that Rydan had just noticed he was returning.

“Why, what?” Rydan asked, also losing his smile.

“Why take me here. To see all of this. Why?”

“I’m not sure I-”

“You… You kill my kind without hesitation. Without mercy. You take pride in our deaths. You’ve hated me since we met. So why offer me kindness. Do you hope for my mercy when I show you to my home?” She snarled these words at him, but there was a deeper emotion to it. Sadness. Loss. She didn’t know herself.

Rydan raised an eyebrow. There it was. She had been planning on killing him, as Rydan had thought. He frowned slightly, looking away at the mountains and biting back a retort. He had been able to tell that she had gotten more nervous as they got closer to her home. And now that they were only a two days journey away, she had seemed to be under an emotionally turbulent cloud.

Rydan touched the horn-amulet around his neck. “I kill without hesitation. But I do not kill without mercy.”

Serana scoffed. “Mercy? Is that what you call it?”

Rydan continued, ignoring her question. “When I lost my family, the Vigilants of Stendarr took me to the Temple of Mara in Riften. My adoptive father raised me until I became of age, and then I joined the Vigilants.”

Serana said nothing, frowning. Her eyes had welled up but she decided she would entertain what he had to say.

“My adoptive father, the head-priest, had always taught me that Stendarr is the God of Mercy. You asked me earlier why I hated Morthal. It’s because when I was there last, the local Nords spat at my adoptive mother and father. He was a Redguard and she was a Dunmer. The local Nords harassed them and called them awful things. He was a devout follower of Mara, though, and it never got to him. Me, on the other hand, well, I was just eleven but I would yell at the scoundrels who harassed my family. I would scream at them and kick at them, usually earning a beating or two. Maramal would come to my rescue, apologize on my behalf, and get double the beatings I did. I felt horrible. But I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. I couldn’t lose my family. I couldn’t be helpless. Not again. He always called me, ‘Child of Stendarr’, because I couldn’t stand to watch others be treated with unjustness. He gave me Stendarr’s amulet and told me that as long as I kept to Stendarr’s ways, I would be safe.”

Serana bit back, “So what. Should I sympathize with the upbringing of a vampire-hunter?”

Rydan shook his head, “You’re not getting it. I betrayed my adoptive father. I joined the Vigilants of Stendarr - an organization that betrayed the concept of the mercy of Stendarr and mercilessly killed any who they perceived as a daedra-worshipper. And then, before most of the Vigilants were killed due to their shortsightedness and ill-preparedness, I joined the Dawnguard - an organization that was more effective in killing vampires, and less idealistic. I have never once taken pleasure in killing. But I have felt satisfied. Until recently.”

Serana looked up at him.

“My goals have been entirely selfish. I have betrayed my god and my father. I travelled with you to root your kind out, burn your home, kill you and your family, and leave with the Elder Scroll. You are my enemy. But my actions were my own and they are evil.”

Serana raised an eyebrow, “We’ve travelled together for only six days - why have you changed your views this much?”

Rydan gulped. “Because you have shown me something I had hoped was not true. Something I wished never to see.”

“What?”

“That you are worthy of compassion. That you have a mind above killing and bloodletting. You feel. Happiness, joy, sadness, pain, grief. You are not a monster anymore than I am. ”

Serana shook her head this time, “Sweet words. But vampires are worse than you know. We can be terrible beasts.”

Rydan nodded, “That doesn’t make a difference. The greatest joke that Molag Bal ever played was the joke of vampirism. He didn’t make you any more evil. When he started vampirism, he left the afflicted mortals to remain themselves aside from the need for blood. The monstrosity that vampires are comes from within. Not from the Daedra.”

Serana flinched at the name of the Daedric Lord. _How did he know so much about the origin of their kind._ “You think this changes anything? That I will extend you mercy in the name of Stendarr.”

Rydan looked at her, silent for a while. Finally, he spoke. “I do not expect anything from my enemies. But I am sorry that you were burdened by my unjust hatred.”

She stared at him. He was calmer, and resolute. He was actually telling the truth. 

She did not want him to die.

——

Two days later, they were at a shore. The surrounding sea was cold, and in the distance there was an island that held a castle of considerable size.

Serana gestured to the boat that was docked near them. “That’s my home over there.” 

Rydan did not speak. _Was that her castle? A castle of vampires?_ He nodded and she climbed in. He pushed the boat off of the shore and hopped in, taking the oars in his hand. Serana was watching him, intently.

“What?” Rydan asked.

“Nothing.” She looked away and did not speak until they reached the shore of the island harboring the castle.

Once on shore, Rydan looked up at the castle - just a few hundred yards up the island. Made up of polished, black stone - it towered above them as they walked towards it. _Who had he been kidding. There was no way he was going to walk in there and survive_. 

“It’s impressive.” He commented.

“It’s… something, alright.” She returned.

They kept walking.

Serana stopped behind him. “Look. I-I wanted to thank you. For getting me this far.”

He turned to face her.

“But once we go in there. I’m going my own way. For a while. I know your friends would probably want to kill everything in there. I’m hoping what you said earlier was true. That you’ll be merciful and that you can show some more restraint than that. You’ll see horrible things. But please, don’t do anything reckless. Let me take the lead.”

_Did this mean she was not planning on killing her?_

They approached the gate.

“Lady Serana? It can’t be!” A voice called. An older man in leather armor opened the entry-gate and used his key to unlock the double-door behind him. He smiled widely at Lady Serana but narrowed his eyes at Rydan, saying nothing. From what Rydan could tell, he was a regular mortal. Maybe there were only a few vampires here.

Rydan entered the castle first and recoiled at the smell. Something in here was dead or dying. Other than the putrid scent emanating from the castle, Rydan noticed how beautiful the interior of the castle was. The tile was sleek, black, and freshly polished. The ceiling was at least ten meters off of the floor, and the interior was decorated as one would expect the entry-hall of a great lord to look. Serana followed soon after him, letting out a deep, nervous breath. Upon entering, a tall Altmer vampire approached Rydan, baring his fangs.

“How dare you trespass here?” He snarled.

Rydan said nothing as Serana came into the hall, behind Rydan. The Altmer looked as if Serana had materialized out of thin air,

"Lady Serana, is that you? I-I cannot believe my eyes," he whispered, then called behind him, "my Lord! Everyone! Lady Serana has returned!”

Serana raised an eyebrow at Rydan, but she looked even paler and worried. “I guess I’m expected.”

They were led into the great hall of the castle. What Rydan saw next made him want to vomit. Mortals in various states of dying and mutilation were lying in the dining halls, groaning in pain and suffering. Vampires were feasting on their bodies and blood, but stopped abruptly when they noticed the guests. Serana felt Rydan’s heartbeat rise dramatically. _Please, Rydan. Please don’t do something stupid._ They continued forward until they approached a vampire on a throne, smiling at Serana. The vampire was an older male with an uncanny resemblance to Serana - sporting the same blood-red clothes as her and wore a long brown mustache that complimented his dark, slick hair.

“My long lost daughter returns at last." He smiled at her, "I trust you have the Elder Scroll?” The vampire asked Serana.

“All these years and that’s the first thing you ask me?” She replied. “Yes I have the Elder Scroll.” 

The vampire looked irritated, but quickly smiled again, “Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud?" He took a sip out of a goblet containing fresh blood. Rydan winced. "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike.” He spoke coldly to her. _So this was her father_ , Rydan thought.

“Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?" Serana’s father asked of her. He turned his gaze to Rydan - a gaze that raised every hair on Rydan’s body - compelling him to run.

“This is my savior. The one who freed me.” She answered.

Rydan was uncertain at his situation. Was Serana was protecting him? What had he gotten himself into?

“For my daughter’s safe return, you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?” Serana's father asked him.

Panic started to set in. He was surrounded by gore and mutilation and powerful vampires. He knew he would follow the fates of the mortals that were in the hall, being eaten both alive and dead. Rydan fought down the urge to vomit and beg for mercy. “Rydan.” He managed to respond. 

“I am Harkon. Lord of this Court.” He smiled at Rydan. It was an unpleasant, greasy smile. By now my daughter will have told you what we are.”

“Yes. You’re vampires.”

“Not just vampires,” he emphasized, “the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim.”

Rydan nodded.

“For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most." He explained.

Rydan had a feeling he wasn’t talking about his daughter. 

Lord Harkon continued, “You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

Rydan took in his words. If he took the offer, maybe he could live a bit longer. Long enough to warn the Dawnguard. Maybe he could…

He cursed himself. Was he seriously considering this. This would be a betrayal to Stendarr. To Maramal. To himself. And then he looked to Serana. She was carefully watching him. Her eyes were wild and worried.

Harkon interrupted his train of thought. “Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power!” 

Harkon transformed into a monster. His skin turned pale-green. He sprouted wings. His body grew, and talons the size of knives replaced his fingernails. He radiated power and magicka. Rydan was far out of his depth here. He almost laughed at the fact that he had thought of tricking Serana to lead him here to kill these vampires when they had first met. He wouldn’t last two minutes against Serana. Against all of them, or Harkon alone, he would be dead in seconds. 

Serana’s eyes were now desperate, seemingly pleading Rydan to take the offer. She was trying to save his life. He was grateful. But he knew his answer.

“I refuse, Lord Harkon.”

The court was silent. This mortal had just insulted the great lord of the court. This was a grave insult. And he would pay for it.

Harkon sneered at him. Serana looked as if she would step in between them. Before she got the chance, Harkon spoke.

"So be it!” He stated. “You are prey, like all mortals. I banish you!"

And then Rydan’s world went dark.


	5. Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the plot begins its rearrangement from canon. A lot of things are more or less the same, but in a different order.

Rydan needed to grow stronger.

Isran was furious with his admission - he had led a powerful pureblooded vampire back to her vampire castle where other powerful, pureblooded vampires remained. She also carried an elder scroll with her, which Rydan had also more or less delivered to them. Other than commenting on the fact that Rydan was lucky to be alive, Isran said nothing else. Rydan didn’t need Isran’s approval or acceptance, though. What he had seen when he escorted Serana shook him to his core. If he didn’t gain more power soon, there would be nothing in all of Tamriel that could stop the coming vampiric onslaught.

Rydan decided to take a break from the Dawnguard temporarily, after helping Isran locate two important allies - a breton girl named Sorine Jurard (who instantly disliked him), and a Nord named Gunmar (who had the exact opposite reaction). The Dawnguard were not ready for such a threat and he needed time to process what all had gone on. Rydan packed his travel sack and made his way to the bleakest city in all of Skyrim - Winterhold. 

Well, _almost._

\-----

“You a dark-elf lover?” The burly Nord man asked. They were at the Candlehearth inn at Windhelm, a warm, cozy little place in a cold, stark city. Rydan had chosen a table at the back-left corner of the inn, away from the crowd, hoping to be left alone. Evidently, his efforts were in vain.

Rydan looked up from his drink at the man. “Piss off.”

The man blinked. “The fuck you say t’ me?”

Rydan sighed. He hated Windhelm. “I said ‘piss off’. Are you hard of hearing? Did you want me to write it down? Assuming you know how to read, of course.” Rydan took a sip of his drink.

The Nord man spat at the ground. “I wouldn’t be so cocky, if I were you. I know who you are. You’re from the Dawnguard. The Hunter, they say. They say your mother is a whore-Dunmer married to that idiot priest in Riften.”

Rydan stiffened, causing the man to smile. 

“Just ‘cause our great Jarl allows you to kill vampires in our city doesn't mean I trust ye.” He finished. 

Rydan rose from his table to meet the man’s eyes. The man was larger than Rydan but they were the same height. 

He smiled politely at the man. And then he punched him square in the jaw. 

The man fell a few feet backward and was surprised by this. He rose and held his chin for a moment before becoming enraged and throwing a punch at Rydan. Too inebriated to execute a proper dodge (or even attempt one), Rydan took the punch on his left cheek and fell towards the table.

 _Almighty Talos, the man could throw a punch._ Rydan regained his senses in time to see the man slowly approaching him, cracking his knuckles. Rydan used the fact that he was flat on his ass to his advantage and kicked the man’s legs, which made the man trip toward him. Rydan rolled right and let the man fall face first onto the floor. Rydan rose.

“Kissing the floor? It seems you’re a dark oak lover.” He taunted.

The man groaned and rose slowly. “You’ll regret that, Asher. You’ll regret that.” He gave Rydan a look of absolute loathing and brushed past him. 

_Well that was easy._

Although he did know Rydan’s full name which meant trouble. Rydan clicked his jaw. _Ow._

“Um, hi.” 

Rydan wheeled around to see a tall figure standing behind him. A dunmer woman, with a small voice looked at him shyly. She wore a hood that obscured her face, which was pleasant from what Rydan could tell.

“Hello.” He responded.

“Could I join you, at this table, I mean?”

Rydan was confused by this. “Why?” 

The Dunmer blinked. “I-I’m traveling alone. This is my first time in Skyrim and I needed supplies I couldn’t get in Winterhold. This city is not one to be travelled alone when you’re a - “

“ - a Dunmer.” Rydan finished.

“A woman.” The Dunmer corrected. “But maybe that, too.”

“And you wish to travel with me because I seem like a kind stranger?” Rydan asked.

“No, you seem dangerous and arrogant. But people don’t generally pick fights with people that look like you. Unless you’re that guy, I guess.” She gestured to the door where the man Rydan had tripped left through moments ago.

_Where had that cute, shy stranger gone? At least she was honest._

“But you do wish to travel with me?” Rydan asked.

“Yes.” The woman confirmed. “I’m Breylna.” She extended a hand.

He took it. “I’m Rydan.”

The woman nodded, “I’ve also heard of you. Which is part of the reason I approached. Everyone at the inn is talking about you. It’s how I heard about you, actually.”

Rydan looked around. Most people were talking amongst themselves, paying him no mind, but some made glances at him and others were openly staring or glaring.

“And what are they saying?” He asked

“That you’re a Stendarr worshipping fanatic that slaughters the undead and any who profane Stendarr’s name. And that you hate your own kind.”

“Vampire hunters?” He asked.

“Nords.” She clarified.

Rydan flinched. “I hate _Windhelm_. I have no inherent issue with any man or mer. But I do have a profound dislike for ignorant twats with a penchant for violence, which, funny enough, is why I hate Windhelm.”

Breylna took a long look at him. “Frankly, I don’t care either way. I’m heading to the College and can pay for your protection until then.”

Rydan looked at Brelyna more closely, now that she had removed her hood and sat with him at the table. She was extremely pretty, with dark-purple skin and violet eyes. She had a small, button-nose and had long dark shoulder-length hair. She wore a mage-robe and carried a travel-satchel.

“You’re a brutally honest one,” he smiled at her, “but you’re in luck. The college is actually where I’m headed to as well.” 

Breylna blinked. “Really?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“I need to talk with your Restoration magic expert. And your resident expert on Illusion magic as well. And maybe the arch-mage, too.” Rydan blurted out.

“Um, why?” She asked.

“I need to become stronger. Fast.” 

“Power comes with a price and isn’t easily obtained,” Breylna replied, “and our masters are careful not to rush training.”

“I don’t need training. I just need the concepts and maybe some books. I can ‘train’ while I do my work.”

“Okay.” Breylna ceded, unconvinced. She changed the subject. “We leave in the morning?”

Rydan nodded. “Get some rest Breylna. I’ll meet you here at the light of dawn.”

\----

_Six Months Later_

_20th of Midyear_

_4E 201_

Serana took a deep breath before entering the city’s gates, hooded. The outside of the city was beautiful - and although it was the beginning of the summer months, autumn-like leaves fell from the numerous aspen trees outside of the city’s gates. They covered the main road, which was far less busy than usual. In her travels here, she had noticed that the people had become much more… _tense_. Doors were barred. Farms were destitute or heavily armed. Soldiers from two separate factions seemed to be bolstering for war. Although she had not seen any outright battles, Serana knew that war had happened upon the land and it was only a matter of time before it grew in scale.

As she entered the city, a guard to her right called out to her. “Hold.” He commanded.

The guard was a stout, viscous looking man. He had an air of absolute distrust. “State your business, woman. And remove your hood.”

Serana sighed to herself internally. This was the first time she had been stopped by a mortal since Solitude. And although that encounter didn’t end well for the mortal, she had learned her lesson and had cast illusion magic on her eyes to make them pale-blue, and cast a spell on her skin to make it less ghastly-pale.

She removed her hood and looked at the guardsman, prettily flapping her eyelids. “Yes, sir?”

The guardsman was taken aback by her beauty but immediately regained his composure and stood firm. “I said state your business.”

“I am looking for a… relative of mine. He resides nearby.” She lied.

The man narrowed his eyes. “Which relative? And where exactly.”

“Rydan Asher. Although if you could point me in the direction of his father, I would appreciate that as well.’

The man was skeptical, but nodded. “Aye, I know Rydan. That bastard caused his family a whole lot of grief. Maramal should know where he ought to be. He lives in the temple, just over there.” The guard pointed to the point of a building off in the distance. It’s roof was tall enough so that it could easily be seen amongst the city’s housing and slums.

“And lady, just so you know..”

Serana looked from the building to the guard, who had a resigned look in his eye. “Relative or not, Rydan isn’t the sort of company ye be wanting to keep. He’s a fanatic.”

Serana raised an eyebrow. He certainly gave that impression to vampires like her, but for his actions to throw off mortals seemed odd. From her experiences with him, he was at the very least empathetic.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, sir.”

The guard nodded. “And keep a tight hold on your purse, missy. This city is the home of the Thieves Guild, or so they say.”

Serana smiled. _Let them try_.

She made her way to the temple, navigating through tight street corners and dirty, broken roads. This city was a mess and it smelled of sewage. There were drunkards everywhere, and skooma addicts riddled the city’s streets, begging for money. As she passed by one particular alley, she heard a man punch a woman and scream obscenities at her.

“Stupid whore. You can’t satisfy a single customer and expect to live here rent free.” He shoved the girl - who could not have been older than fifteen - against the wall of the alley.

Serana frowned. She was thirsty. And the man, who was red in the face, seemed to have plenty of blood on hand. She smiled to herself. It seemed that her visit to the temple could wait a little longer. She approached the two - the man had his throat around the girl who was struggling to breath and looked wildly around, kicking and trying to break free of his grasp. Serana had donned her hood and rid herself of her illusions. Her eyes lit up the dark alley-corner as she approached.

The man saw her approaching and turned to look at her. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked. 

Serana grinned showing her full teeth and fangs. “I think you should be more polite to me. I am a Lady, after all.”

The man’s eyes widened. He let go of the girl, who dropped to the ground and gasped for air. She also looked wildly at Serana, terrified at the creature before her.

“Go.” Serana glanced at the girl. “Leave us.” 

The girl obeyed and ducked out of the alley at a full sprint.

“W-What a-are y-you?” The man stammered. He was shaking with fear. _All the better_.

“Hungry.” She grinned. And then she lunged at him.

\----

Hours later, she stood at the temple’s doors. The girl had apparently alerted the guard that there was a vampire in the city, and they had shown up moments later. They were too late to save the man and Serana was long-gone. She recast her disguise and made her way to the temple. Hopefully it was too dark for the girl to get a good look at Serana’s face.

She knocked on the temple doors, when an eldery Dunmer woman answered. She was tiny and fragile-looking, old but not elderly. She looked almost like a wise, elder mouse. Serana smiled a bit at this.

“Yes?” The woman inquired.

“Hi. I am Serana. I’m looking for a friend of mine - Rydan of the Dawnguard?”

The woman frowned. “I don’t know who this ‘Rydan of the Dawnguard’ is but I do know of a troublemaker little boy that hails from here by that name. It is after hours but if you’re a friend as you say, then you are welcome. Come in, please.” She held the door open for Serana.

The woman led her inside to a small chapel-area. At the back-center of the room, a marble statue of the goddess Mara stood, faced by fifteen rows of wooden benches divided in the center by an aisle. The room was cozy and taken care of, albeit a little worn. Behind the statue, there was a door that the woman led Serana through, which opened to a small rectangular chamber with a hearth at the end and four distinct rooms to its side.

The woman gestured at Serana to take a seat at a comfortable looking chair by the fireplace. “Tea, love?” She asked Serana.

Serana politely declined. “No thanks.”

The woman nodded. “I’m Dinya, by the way. Now you wait there. I’ll fetch my husband.”

Serana nodded and waited. She smiled sadly at the fire. The last three minutes made her feel more at home than the last three months with her father had. Which was part of the reason she had escaped and swiped the scroll, now disguised as her ‘purse’. But the full, real reason was still so terrifying, even to her.

“Ah, Serana is it?” A man walked into the chamber, pleasant and polite, though evidently tired. He was a frail-looking Redguard and donned the same attire as Dinya - a yellow robe custom to those who live a life of faith in service to the gods. He had a well trimmed beard and projected an air of confidence. A man used to preaching and giving speeches, she thought.

“Yes, it is. A pleasure.” Serana said.

The man bowed slightly, “I am Maramal. Keeper of this temple. Dinya tells me you know Rydan?” The man was still polite and sincere but she detected an edge to his voice. He was worried.

Serana nodded. “Yes, he and I travelled together. Um, I was hoping you could help me find him.”

The man frowned - literally frowned - and looked down. She could sense his sadness from where she was and saw the tired, weary lines streak his face. “He hasn’t been home in two years. But he writes occasionally. His last letter said that he was going to Solitude to investigate rumors of vampire activity.”

Serana frowned. They knew less than she did. His last letter to his family was prior to her first meeting with him. “I see…” 

Maramal looked up, concern clear on his face.“Wherever he is, I hope he isn’t travelling. The roads are especially dangerous now that Jarl Ulfric killed High King Torygg. But of course, you know that.”

“Of course.” Serana said. _So that’s why Skyrim was on edge._

Maramal shook his head. “If you are searching for him, chances are you can wait for him at Fort Dawnguard. That’s where he resides when he’s not travelling or…” he hesitated.

“- killing vampires?” Serana added.

Maramal flinched. “Yes.”

Serana raised an eyebrow, “It seems you don’t approve of his lifestyle.” She queried.

“Gods, no. It’s too dangerous. And Rydan - well - he’s a sensitive child. Compassionate. He loves deeply and he cannot stand injustice. But he is too kind to be a slayer of vampires. Or at least, too kind to be a Dawnguard or a Vigilant. Killing without remorse.”

That didn’t sound like the Rydan she knew. But she kept that to herself.

“He is famous. I was led here because of his reputation. He’s good at what he does.” Serana looked at Maramal, who flinched again.

“Yes, I’ve heard. And I can detect resentment in your voice.” He looked up at her. “Did he cross you in some way?”

Serana stiffened, “No it’s not that.”

Maramal nodded. “I won’t pry. But I will say this. Don’t judge him too harshly. He had a horrible childhood. His mother, father, and sister were brutally killed right in front of him by vampires. He was messed up when he was brought to me.

Serana’s eyes widened. She did not know that.

“Come, I can take you to his room.” He led her to the room to their left, where Dinya already was, changing the sheets. “It’s late. You can stay the night here, if you’d like.”

Serana shook her head, “No, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I insist.” Maramal said. “We insist.” He smiled at Dinya who smiled back at him. “Rydan is a solitary sort and we’re glad to see that he’s made a friend.” Maramal chuckled.

“And a rather beautiful one.” Dinya added, causing them both to smile at each other again.

Serana, eager to change the subject, asked, “Is there anything you would like me to convey to him if I find him?”

Maramal nodded. “Ask him to be careful. And not to lose his way. He is a Child of Stendarr. And he will always be our son.”

Dinya nodded sadly. A tear flowed down her cheek. “Goodnight, misses. I will fetch you in the morning.”

They left Serana in Rydan’s room to spend the night, promising her that they’d give her directions to Fort Dawnguard once she got enough rest. His room was not at all what she pictured. The bed was nicely made. In the back left corner, there was a desk with several papers and scribbles, along with a stack of books. A black, eerie looking book caught her eye. She approached the desk.

“The Book of the Daedra.” She frowned and opened it, a piece of paper fell out. She closed the book and opened the piece of paper and revealed a sketch. She immediately dropped it.

_How?_

She picked up the sketch again, anxious and terrified. On it was a vivid illustration of a familiar, demonic face. _Molag Bal_ . _Perfectly rendered. How did Rydan know what he looked like?_

Anxious, she put the book and sketch down and walked to the bed. She looked under the bed, hoping to find more clues about Rydan’s connection to the Daedric lord, and found a familiar, green-looking book instead.

“The Lusty Argonian Maid.” The book cover read.

She snorted. _Child of Stendarr, yeah right,_

She lied on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell was she doing here? What would he think? And she was sure that the Dawnguard would just kill her on sight once they saw through her disguise. No. She had to be honest with them. She would remove her illusions and level with them, and mention Rydan by name. That may cause them to cease hostility until Rydan could show up and clarify. It was a gamble but it might work.

She closed her eyes and was met by dreams of the terrible Daedric Lord that she despised with all her being.

\-----

Rydan stood at the entrance to Fort Dawnguard. He was finally back. He had spent intense, gruelling months with Collette and Tolfdir from the college. They had trained him in practical matters and now the only thing left for him to do was practice and gain experience through real-world application. The world had also gone to shit when he was gone, and the Civil War coincided with an impending vampiric invasion of Skyrim. Perfect timing. What was next? Dragons? He shook his head and walked into Fort Dawnguard where he was immediately met with suspicious eyes.

All of the members of the Dawnguard were assembled and eyed him, weapons at the ready. Rydan looked at each of them, bewildered. What was going on? And then a bright, blinding light shone on him that stunned him.

“Hey! That’s an asshole move.”

Isran approached Rydan. “Can never be too careful.”

The rest of the Dawnguard still looked at Rydan suspiciously.

“We're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?" Isran stated.

They walked up the stairs to Isran’s chambers. The other Dawnguard waited at the bottom of the staircase hoping to hear the conversation that was to play out.

Rydan walked into the room and found Serana standing there, Elder Scroll in tow. His jaw nearly dropped.

“You probably weren’t expecting to see me again.” She smiled meekly at him. Which was not like her.

“What are you doing here?” Rydan demanded. Isran glared silently at the vampire and then at Rydan.

"I'd rather not be here either, but I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen before your friend, here, loses his patience. It's... well, it's about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

Isran gritted his teeth, but Rydan put his hand up as if to halt him from speaking, infuriating Isran even more.

“What about you?”

"The reason I was down there... and why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes back to my father. I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards.”

Rydan nodded.

“He wasn't always like that, though.” She added quickly. “There was... a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it."

“What sort of prophecy?” Isran hissed.

"It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies. The part he latched onto said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. That's what he's after. He wants to control the sun, have vampires control the world." Serana talked directly to Rydan, ignoring Isran. Isran clenched his fists.

“He lost himself?” Rydan did not know what that could mean in terms of a vampire overlord.

"He just became absorbed... obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive. Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll." She blurted it all out at once, as if afraid she would be stopped or stop herself from finishing.

“And you want us to help you?” Rydan inquired.

“Yes. If you can work with a vampire, yes.”

“How long do we have?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure. He mentioned something about being unable to act until the dragons were purged from Skyrim. At least, according to the prophecy.”

“Dragons?”

“I assume it’s figurative. Like a rival clan that’s unknown or something.”

Rydan frowned. “You took a big risk coming here.”

“I know.” She responded. “But… something about you makes me feel like I can trust you with this. I hope I’m not wrong.”

Rydan said nothing. “This is a big threat. And it seems our interests are once again aligned. I will convince the others.”

Isran scoffed. “You better start with me.”

Rydan sighed, “C’mon Isran, you heard her. This affects all of Tamriel. It’s bigger than our feud with her. It’s worth looking into.”

Isran thought for a long moment. “Fine. If you vouch for her, I can tolerate it for now.” He turned to Serana. "You hear me? Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it." He gestured at Rydan.

Rydan nodded. It was fair.

Serana gave Isran a long look. “Thank you. I’ll remember that next time I’m feeling hungry.”

Isran stared coldly at Serana. "Don't forget your place here." He seethed. Shaking his head at the ground, then at Rydan, he exited the room, leaving the two alone.

Serana turned to Rydan. “Thank you. Your father was right. You aren’t the mindless killing machine I pegged you for when we first met.”

Rydan’s eyes widened. “You met him?”

Serana nodded. “Let’s… let’s get out of this place. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

\---

The duo made their way out of Fort Dawnguard with the rest of its members suspiciously watching them, wondering what a powerful, pure-blooded vampire and Skyrim’s most famous vampire hunter could possibly have to talk about.

As they left, Rydan had a sinking feeling that he would not be returning to Fort Dawnguard for a long time to come.


End file.
